The Greatest Deed
by edmelon
Summary: Kukai's deeds are always of good intent. Even when he makes the impulsive decision to buy an old, derelict little cottage in a frozen wilderness, Utau believes she may be able to salvage the situation. But, as it turns out, Kukai might have just opened up a whole new world of troubles. And that includes the hundred-and-something cows invading their personal space.
1. Chapter 1

-l-l-

 _Summary:_ Kukai's deeds are always of good intent. Even when he makes the impulsive decision to buy an old, derelict little cottage in a frozen wilderness, Utau believes she may be able to salvage the situation. But, as it turns out, Kukai might have just opened up a whole new world of troubles. And that includes the hundred-and-something cows invading their personal space.

-l-l-

" _Honey!"_

The cheerful voice rang down the line – all sunshine and optimism despite the cold, winter months and Utau hugged at her fluffy coat, wrapping the thing round tighter as she marched down the last few streets towards the apartment building. The thought of her plush sofa and her velvety throw and all the warm cushions to collapse into was very much preferable to the cold February wind. She walked faster.

It had been days since Kukai had rang. _Days._ The last Utau had heard of her husband was the text he sent her on Sunday – a cheery text with that good old cheesy-grin emoji he loved so much to let her know that he had arrived, safe and sound, at the resort he and his group of soccer mates would be staying at. Personally, she couldn't care less if his rowdy friends had made it there (in fact they could get piled under an avalanche out on the surrounding mountainsides and she wouldn't give a damn), but it was nice to know that he had made it to the skiing lodge without troubles. The snow up in Hokkaido had been particularly bad this year, she'd heard. And, of course, to hear his voice now would have been like music to her ears because, as much as she tried to deny it, Utau _did_ miss Kukai whenever he was away from home for more than a couple of days.

But she would have been a _bit_ happier if he hadn't outright ignored her all this time.

"Kukai," the word was cold and indifferent, but her husband would always know that she meant no offense. Her bark was far worse than her bite. "It's been nearly a week!" She told him sternly. "What on Earth have you been doing up there where I can't keep an eye on you?"

Bright laughter reached her ear and she could just picture him leant up against the doorframe in some hotel room somewhere, his phone raised to his ear with one hand and the other behind his head in that nonchalant fashion that Utau refused to admit she liked. "So little faith in me!" He remarked. "So little faith has my darling placed in me that I can't even leave the house for a week!"

The blonde visibly cringed. ' _My darling'_. He knew she hated that.

"What do you think I've been doing? Snow's fantastic up here! You should come! We could rent out a nice, little place… _Just_ for the _two_ of us if you know what I mean…" He was probably leering. Grinning. Wiggling his eyebrows stupidly. She sighed audibly and he laughed again at her reaction. "But, you know, now that you've called me out on my crap… I _am_ sorry that I didn't call you…" he began and there was a suspicious edge to his voice that Utau did not like. At all. "But, I suppose I can't hide it any longer,"

The blonde frowned, stopping abrupt in the middle of the street. Tiny flecks of snow began to flutter down from the night sky and she shook them out of her pigtails. "Kukai what are you talking about?"

There was a huff down the line as Kukai, presumably, collapsed down onto his bed or a sofa. "To tell you the truth, I've been doing a little bit of business and, being the wonderful guy _and_ husband that you knowI truly am–" (Utau rolled her pretty eyes) "–it turns out that I have good news! Wonderful news!"

There was a pause. He was clearly incredibly pleased with himself and Utau raised an eyebrow in curiosity, intrigued further when he stayed silent. "Go on."

"Well, uh…" A cough. He began somewhat hesitantly as he broached the following topic. "Well, you know how we were talking some time ago… You were talking about how you thought it would be niceto have a change of scenery?" (She did remember that, but she allowed him to continue, humming in response.) "And you remember, when we were away in that nice little villa in France, how you said that you would _love_ one day to have your very own little country retreat?"

"Yes…" she uttered awkwardly, fearing that she had already guessed what was to come.

And she was right, for the exact moment the lightbulb lit up in her brain, Kukai exclaimed loudly and proudly, as if it were the best, most _fantastical_ idea in existence –

" _I've bought a retreat in Hokkaido!"_

A pause.

"Isn't that the best thing _ever_?"

One.

Two.

Three…

And it fully sank in.

"You did _what?!"_ Utau cried. What did he think he was _doing?_ What did he think he was doing up there spending their money – their savings! – on some little log cabin in the frostiest place south of the tundra? Images came into the singer's mind of all the grotty little huts she'd seen advertised in so-called adventure 'holiday' adverts caked in mud and soaked in rain and damp patches; mould and plant growth creeping in like ghostly fingers through the cracks and crevices in the rotten wood, uncontrollable and unsightly. _"Kukai!_ What are you _thinking?_ When I talked about a rural retreat, I didn't mean some dump in a snow drift!How expensive was this place? We were saving that money to buy a place in _Portugal!_ How did you think I was going to react? What the hell made you act so compulsively? _And what in the name of God are you thinking?"_

Apparently startled by this sudden onslaught, Kukai jumped to his own defence. "Woah, woah, woah!" he stammered hurriedly; "Utau, babe – _precious, honey, darling_ – you haven't even _seen_ the place yet! It-It's a perfectly desirable little home! Nestled away in the trees – a view of the mountains! You've always wanted to see mountains each morning, haven't you, sweet?"

" _Don't you 'sweet' me!"_

" _Utauuuu..!_ " her husband whined at like a little, dejected puppy. She pursed her lips and huffed angrily into the night air. "You'll like it… _Promise!_ It's a little rough around the edges, I'll admit, b-but there's plenty of space to renovate! You like all that home décor stuff, right?"

His wife produced something quite close to a snarl, making him flinch all the way up North in his hotel room. "And you'd better be lucky, Kukai," she began, deadly low and deadly serious in a tone cold enough to chill any soul straight to the bone; "because if I _didn't_ you couldn't get another flight fast enough before I stormed up there and _skinned you alive!"_

And with that she hung up on her idiot husband and marched her way back down the pavement, her heels echoing dangerously loudly the anger that was whirling in the pit of her stomach.

-l-l-

The following week Utau decided that she would give her dear, loving husband the precious gift known as 'the silent treatment' – something she was particularly good and effective at doing and she knew that with every call, every text, every email of his that she ignored, he would allow the guilt of what he'd done to sink in and the next time she saw him he'd be wrapped around her little finger – on his knees, just _begging_ for mercy. He'd apologise over and over again until she eventually forgave him and by that point he'd feel so awful, realising the gravity of his error, that he'd hopefully sell whatever he'd bought up there and that would be the end of that.

Or so Utau thought because when she opened some of his messages it turned out that, aside from the occasional apology, he'd been sending her pictures of the area and of some of the inside of his new purchase almost daily and she realised quickly that he probably wasn't going to let up so easily. Her heart sank. She had to admit, the inside was nice and roomy, if dark, and the mountains and the hillsides and the grass under snow _did_ look very nice and picturesque, but, unfortunately for Kukai, it wasn't going to be enough to win her over that easily. Although, at the back of her mind, she did begin to realise that it was going to be a lot harder than she initially thought to dismiss this new venture of his. If there was one thing she knew about her husband it was that once he had his mind stuck to something it was extremely hard to get him to let it go.

And so, of course, when Kukai did return soon after, it came as no surprise to her that he only ever offered her one apology for his rash thinking and, full of ammunition, quickly spun into some sort of self-prepared speech on why he just knew that this would be a brilliant winter home for them both, bringing out photos, maps and even pamphlets for activities in the local area.

"Oh, you should've _seen_ it, Utau!" he jabbered on excitedly once they were back home in their apartment, flicking through the pictures he'd taken on his phone; "The place is beautiful – the snow is so light and fluffy that you can just wade right through it. The hills are perfect! And they're covered in trees, Utau! Just _covered!_ Makes it a nice, little private area – no neighbours! Just us, the home, the breeze… Now, you can't tell me that this isn't what you'd call a perfect retreat!" And he proffered to her about ten identical pictures of the surrounding countryside – rough and steep and covered in patches of white and green.

"Kukai, I don't like this," she eventually interrupted him one day; "I don't like you making such a huge decision on your own! Why should I trust you if you can't keep _our_ money to yourself?"

At that he shrunk considerably and stammered, ashamed. Utau sighed. "I can't believe you didn't just sell the place before you came home – as if our money can just be thrown away that easily!"

"Babe, it's not like we can't afford it!" he tried (and spectacularly failed) to reason.

"I'll just remind you, Kukai, that _most_ of that money is mine!" the blonde spat. _"I'm_ the one who's out all day and night earning more in one week than you ever will in a month!"

"Hey, now hang on!" Kukai countered, slamming down the pamphlet he'd been leafing through onto the coffee table. "You just said it was our money! We're married, Utau – that money's both of ours to spend and just because I'm not so 'famous' and _'all-that'_ doesn't mean that I don't get a say in what to use it for!" He stood up, shaking his head and collecting up all the papers and leaflets he'd been trying to get her to read for the hundredth time.

"Don't you worry," he went on, almost bitterly; "this little cottage didn't even make a dent in your _vast_ fortune, your _ladyship_."

Those unexpectedly cold words had had some effect, it seemed, for Utau was now silent; arms folded, lips pursed, staring down at her feet like a stubborn, scolded child. She was so quiet that Kukai apparently felt brave enough to push on further.

"You haven't even _seen_ it yet." He told her. "Look, the weather'll start to warm in a month or so up there… Come up with me and see it, yeah?"

Utau's intense eye-staring competition with the ground ended abruptly. Pretty lilac eyes came up to meet the most glorious leafy green.

"How about it, sweet?"

-l-l-

And so Utau found herself quite exasperated, huffing and puffing in the chilly spring air, miserable and uncomfortable as the crappy hire car they'd bought for their stay jumped about on the road. It didn't do so well on country roads, apparently, and Utau swore she'd have the balls of the sneaky, greasy little man who'd managed to sell it to them. It was cheap and flimsy and it was painted in the most awful, grubby shade of silver she'd ever seen, but, then again, she supposed that Kukai was just trying to go easy on the cash. Since the 'unexpected purchase' – as she liked to refer to the mysterious cottage they were headed for right now – and since agreeing to come up and make a visit, she'd noticed some significant cutbacks had been made in their spending habits. Either he was trying to make it up to her after spending their hard-earned yen on this place… Or the cottage had been far more expensive than she'd ever dreamed and he was in fact being _forced_ to make some adjustments.

She hoped for the sake of her husband that it was the former.

Presently, the dreadful car hit another awkward bump in the road and the singer was almost thrown forwards in her seat. Stunned and now frantic, she gripped onto the dashboard to steady herself. Beside her, Kukai laughed loud and cheerful as if they weren't being catapulted in all directions in a little steel death-trap on a frozen road in the wilderness where no one would hear them cry out for help should the car betray them.

" _Kukai,"_ she began, her heart hammering in her chest as she eyed the wide ditch near the side of the road and thought about just how many vehicles in icy conditions must have met their untimely ends at the bottom of the muddy trench. "How farther into the forest _is_ this place?"

And quite a spectacular forest it was as tall pillars of green reached up far above them to touch the blue skies above. Rich green and flecks of soft, white snow surrounded them so densely that it was hard to make out anything more than a few metres away through the trees, although occasionally they would come to a gap in the road or there would be a turning to one side and they would just be able to make out some of the distance – steep, green slopes dotted with the pale wildflowers of spring and, further back, tall, marching rows of deep purple where the feet of the mountains came down to meet the countryside.

Utau had to admit (when she wasn't trying to stay seated as the car buffeted her about) that it was quite a nice view. She even went so far as to hope that she might see more of it. And, truth be told, the notion of having a private home amongst these very hills was quite pleasant. If the place was honestly as nice as Kukai had made out… Well then maybe – just _maybe_ – she decided that she might actually quieten down a bit and entertain her loveable idiot for a while. Even if it wasn't quite the tropical paradise she'd desired.

It would be theirs and theirs alone. And she supposed that Kukai had had the best intentions…

"Ah, we're here!"

Kukai's bright voice drew Utau out of her own thoughts and she looked up to see them approaching the end of the awful road. There the trees continued on, but they grew thinner and further between as they came up to a wide gate, blocking their path.

"Here?" Utau echoed dubiously.

Kukai grinned widely. "Yeah! Come on! Get out and we'll go the rest of the way?"

"The rest–?"

He slammed the car door shut after him and bounded round like an excitable puppy to open the other for her. He even held out a hand to help her out of the vehicle. She raised an eyebrow, wary.

They left the car where it was and Kukai took the lead, opening the gate which was tall and heavy to push. Through it the road continued, though it was better kept this side much to Utau's relief. She counted perhaps three or four small potholes – absolutely nothing in comparison to the craters they'd had to suffer during the hour-long journey out here. It was a good start and so her spirits were lifted slightly as they wandered along the pathway below the trees. The air was cool, but pleasant and the sun had begun to break through a passing cloud, giving a little much-needed heat to the wintery world in the North.

They walked on for about another minute before turning a corner where the trees broke and there in a little clearing beneath the hills sat the very place that had warranted an hour's flight, hour's drive and almost two months' worth of doubt, distress, cold shoulder and silent treatment. Kukai beamed.

" _Ta-daa!"_

And Utau wanted to die.

-l-l-

 _A/N:_ Look it's a new story even though I really should never have thought about attempting another one. But oh well. I need a bit of spontaneous Kukai in my life. Plus I've been feeling really nostalgic for Shugo Chara lately and I've had this sat in my documents for years… So I figured I'd upload it and see how it went.

This fic is inspired by Chris Stewart's 'Driving Over Lemons' and its sequels – a series of autobiographies covering the author's life since buying an apparently useless little farm in rural Spain and turning it into the dream home he'd always imagined. It's just completely something that Kukai would get himself caught up in. So here we are I guess.

I hope you enjoy ^^


	2. Chapter 2

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 _A/N:_ Well look who's crawled back onto Fanfic. Whoops. I just needed some more of this fic in my life and I've actually _(finally)_ managed to recover my old documents will all the drafts and chapter plans on them, so I'm feeling hopeful, let's see.

Anyway, enjoy!

-l-l-

"'Ta-daa'?" Utau echoed. _"'Ta-daa?' Kukai!"_

"What?" her husband replied, blinking at her, his head cocked to the side in a way that would have been disgustingly adorable had she not been so livid.

" _This_ is the 'dream home' you bought?"

Kukai looked over his shoulder at the building in the background. "Well… Yeah." He made a slightly pained expression as if he'd suddenly realised just how bad it looked in the flesh, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck under her glare. "Look, I know it'll take some work, but–"

The look on her face must have been enough to stop him. Utau opened her mouth, but for a good few seconds nothing came out. She looked at the house and then back at him. Words just utterly failed her. To think – all that fuss, all that time, all that _money_ … And _this_ was the so-called 'retreat' her husband had bought! She stared at it from a distance and, to be quite honest, that was more than enough for her!

It was, in a word; derelict. Completely and utterly, unbelievably _derelict._ It stood only two stories tall (perhaps a third – she couldn't quite tell if those ugly, gaping spaces in the rooftop were window frames or not), yet it seemed to groan under its own weight; the walls weak under the weight of many past winters worth of snow. The cement between the muddy brown bricks crumbled; the roof tiles were balanced loosely, swaying precariously in the breeze; long-dead creepers, crunchy and brown, still clung to the sides, locked in a final death-grip so strong that Utau wouldn't want to pull them out for fear of bringing the entire structure down with them. There were bare, frozen mud patches in the grass; tangled hedgerows; rotten doorframes; empty window panes… Even the garage, stood separate from the rest of the building on the opposite side of the road looked like it had had enough. Its door was gone, laying as a piece of crumpled tin propped up against the side wall, and in its place frost-covered spider webs hung limply – even they were abandoned!

It may have been a winter wonderland retreat once in the distant past, she realised, but those days were far behind it. Yes, it _was_ surrounded by the most beautiful countryside and, yes, it did look like it was wonderfully roomy with plenty of space to spare, but any charm it had once had – any character; any appeal; any _life_ – was long gone, worn and faded away into nothingness by the chill of the North and the careless treatment of its previous owners. It was certainly not the palace it had been made out to be and, especially as Utau mused over the substantial gap in their savings, it was a crippling blow for the blonde to look at.

"'Some work'?" she repeated, incredulous. _"Kukai!_ It's falling down by the minute! It's a death trap in a frozen wasteland!" Her pretty little nose crinkled. "And there's a smell too."

"Look," Kukai said softly, yet cautiously as if he were trying to calm a wild animal; "I know it's not perfect yet–" (Utau shook her head wordlessly) "–but just imagine it in a couple years' time! Green summer grass, lush forest! It'll have all been done up and we'll have white walls and proper windows… There's three or four bedrooms in that house – think of all the space! Just think of the things we could do with this place!"

Mist shrouded his wife's face as she exhaled deeply, one gloved hand massaging her temples. "Kukai…" she began and she suddenly sounded so defeated and weary that Kukai felt a pang of guilt; "I don't even know where to begin with this place."

Looking at it now, it did seem like, with a certain degree of work, something might be salvaged from the wreck… But just how large that degree of labour and effort would have to be was beyond Utau's comprehension. Not to mention that it would probably cost more than the damn place was even worth.

But would it even be worth it?

Kukai's eyes were wide and endearing and in them she thought she could briefly see just what had driven him to purchase such a place. The thought of their painstaking efforts rewarded in the form of a gleaming new home – newly-plastered walls glowing under the winter sun; well-tended hedges and lush grass decorated with a smattering of fresh snow; the warm, homely lights from inside casting brightness upon the hills at night, shining through the forest like a candle in the darkness…

Utau sighed, thinking she understood, and resigned herself to a tour of the ramshackle cottage.

"What else is there, Kukai?"

Her husband beamed and led her up the remainder of the driveway.

For a good few minutes they stood before the unhappy face of the building, Kukai rambling on at her about things such as the history of the place or the work that he intended to do on the exterior, but Utau wasn't listening. With every glance over the house and its crumbling bricks or its sorry empty windows, the thought of the work that they would need to fork out for weighed heavily on her mind. She grimaced. And something would have to be done about that _smell…_

"It's no longer in use as a farm, of course," the man beside her rattled on as they rounded a corner, walking beside a track that led to the grounds beyond and into the hills. "But it's certainly still got that rural charm about it!"

Utau rolled her eyes. Rural charm, indeed.

Although, Kukai may have had a point, she thought, shortly afterwards as they as passed by the side of the farmhouse. There through a broken window, its glass still dug deep into the rotten wood, Utau caught a glimpse inside of a wide, cavernous space – a dining room or hall perhaps – and, for a moment at least, her interest piqued and soothed the flame of her ire.

Kukai noticed this and grinned, obviously pleased that something about his impulsive new venture had caught her attention. He stopped and brought her closer to the window. He watched proudly as she peered in.

"See?" he went on as breezily as ever and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders, hugging her against him in the chill of the air. "Look at that, Utau – it's bigger than our dining room in the apartment!"

Utau's lips twitched in amusement, but (ever the actress) she somehow managed to conceal it.

"We don't have a dining room in our apartment."

"Exactly! Exactly, babe." He leaned in close now and gave her the briefest, sweetest peck on the cheek. "You didn't think I'd buy some tiny, God-forsaken little hut in the snow now, did you?"

"I don't know, Kukai. It's kind of hard to know what to expect after that road trip you planned." She shuddered involuntarily. It was an incident they did not speak of unless absolutely necessary. Or unless she needed to prove a point and it seemed that this was one of those times.

The man beside her groaned, rubbing his temples. "Hey, look, sweet, you didn't even _go_ on that road trip and let me tell you that all who _did_ were more than willing to humour me! Even your brother got a kick outta that!"

"You all nearly got arrested for robbing a truck stop! You went missing for a _month_!"

"Ah, yeah," Kukai sighed blissfully, all of a sudden overwhelmed by nostalgia, his eyes distant and far off as he apparently relived some long-treasured memories. "Those were the days, babe."

Utau rolled her eyes in disbelief and decided to drop the subject, instead peering in further through the window before them and scanning her eyes over the empty room once more. It did seem large and she was pleased to see that it had (or at least once had) some sort of electricity in place judging by the old fixtures in the plaster. It seemed a fine space with potential to her so far, but she reminded herself quickly that this was just one room of many others and that she shouldn't let herself get carried away before finding out for herself what other horrors might lay inside.

And speaking of horrors;

"What are those?"

This seemed to snap Kukai out of his reverie and he followed her gaze. One wall of the room was taken up by three large windows and through the age-old grime and dust they could just about make out several metal structures just around the back of the house.

"Oh those?" he began. He waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, they're nothing special – just what's left over from when it was a proper farm. Storage sheds and that, that's all. We can take them all straight down when we start renovating the place… But d'you wanna see anyway? There's a good bit of land out back and I'm thinking we can make it into a nice yard…"

Utau nodded and they began manoeuvring through the thick weeds along the path and all the while Kukai babbled on and on about the great ideas the seller had given him about how to go about transforming the outside into the perfect most _idyllic_ garden –

"What _is_ that smell?" Utau cut him off abruptly, pausing to waft a hand in front of her nose. "Kukai, why would you buy a place that smells like a pigsty?"

But Kukai just frowned, apparently puzzled. "It didn't smell when I came here, honestly!"

Suspicious, Utau just huffed as they continued to trudge up the little trail they were following. "What even was this farm used for anyway?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't know, I'm guessing maybe it was for–"

And he stopped abruptly. They had rounded a corner and reached the old farmyard behind the building. The couple stood in silence.

" _Kukai."_

He chanced a glance in her direction. Utau looked murderous. He flinched, partly bracing himself for the impact of his wife's incredible ire and partly because the overpowering stench of innumerable farmyard animals had hit him like a sudden bullet.

It took a moment to process. There before them, huddled away in the old tin sheds, stood what Kukai could only suppose was a _full_ herd of cattle, idly chewing, watching with intrigued eyes.

He swallowed thickly.

"Well… M-Must have been a dairy farm…"

And again… Three…

Two…

One…

" _KUKAI SOUMA!"_

" _Honey– Baby– Sweet! I didn't–!"_

" _A dairy farm!"_ Utau looked on the verge of tearing out her perfect blonde locks. _"Kukai what in the name of GOD–!"_

"The cows weren't here when I bought the place – I _swear!"_

Utau opened her mouth to unleash a further tsunami of fury, but the sight of her husband, hunched over, leaning out of the way and staring open-mouthed at the unexpected bovines as if they had just inexplicably materialised before his very eyes make her stop short. She followed his gaze and she was sure that they both looked very stupid as they gaped at the sight before them.

Then Kukai began to splutter.

"I–I'm–I'm gonna call my realtor!"

And so ten minutes later, Utau found herself folded back into the front seat of that uncomfortable, hideous, rustbucket of a car, arms crossed like a sulky child, as Kukai paced up and down the length of the main gate, engaged in what appeared to be a heated debate with the estate agent.

But by the looks of it, he wasn't winning. He returned dragging his feet in the mud, hands in his pockets and a disgruntled expression and Utau knew that the news had not been good.

"Well?" she snapped as he came over to the car and leant upon the side of the doorframe.

"Sneaky, slimy bastard says I was fully aware of the cows when I bought them." Kukai shook his head. "Not just the house – the _cows_ too!"

"You've _bought_ the cows?" Utau repeated, frowning.

"Unintentionally!" he whined. _"Utauuu..!_ Honey, _baby, please!_ Don't look like that! I didn't _mean_ to! They weren't even here when I viewed the place!"

"You," the blonde began icily. "Are never, _ever_ going away without me ever again. Now get in the car."

"But I–"

" _No!"_ she hissed. "Absolutely not! I'm sick of this argument, I'm sick of those cows and I'm of this place! Now get in the car, Kukai! We need to get rid of them – _immediately."_

Kukai couldn't argue with that. He didn't even try to argue for the rest of the way home.

-l-l-

"But, how exactly are you going to get rid of an entire herd of cows?"

Utau glared – a cold, hard, _deathly_ glare – at her friend who sat there so casually on _her_ sofa, drinking _her_ tea, eating _her_ biscuits…

"If I _knew_ how to get rid of an entire herd of cows, Amu," she began lowly; "then I wouldn't be sat here complaining to _you_ and my husband wouldn't be stranded in Hokkaido looking after those bloody animals!" She waved her hand towards what they all knew was Kukai's favourite corner of the sofa as if to illustrate her point. Currently the corner sat empty and untouched for months, the women opting to sit around it instead of in it and to leave it empty almost in a gesture of respect – a tribute to Kukai's memory as if he were long gone and dead rather than a mere hour's flight away on a farm in the hills. Although, in a sense, he practically was as good as a dead man walking. Utau would outright murder him if they didn't get the livestock shifted by the end of the summer.

Sat opposite the irritable blonde, Amu frowned. "Utau," she started, cautiously, eyeing her friend warily as if she would explode again at any moment. As it was, Rima was shaking her head in the most defeated manner and began to mentally prepare the arrangements for her friend's funeral. "Don't you think you think you ought to… You know… Go and _help_ Kukai get things ready for the renovation?"

"I'll call the undertaker," muttered Rima, reaching for her phone.

Utau, however, didn't erupt much to the surprise and relief of her friends. She instead shot Amu a stony look, an evil twinkle in her eye, and said simply; "As far as Kukai's concerned, Hokkaido is the best place for him right now."

The two didn't doubt it. Under the circumstances, Kukai's best bet was to stay as far away from his raging wife as possible.

"How many cows?" Rima piped up, deciding it best to keep the conversation swiftly moving. Utau's eye twitched. Rima and Amu exchanged looks.

"Come on, Utau, you can tell us." Amu reasoned, helping herself to another biscuit and shrugging. "It's not like we're gonna tell the world or something."

Beside her, Rima reached for her phone again. "That reminds me, I forgot to tell Nagihiko."

Utau's glare was piercing and deadly. "Don't tell Nagihiko."

"I'm gonna tell Nagihiko."

" _Utau!"_ Amu pressed, the tiniest hint of amusement in her eyes now. "Come _on,_ how many cows?"

The intense staring contest that had been sparking between the two blondes ended with Amu's question. Utau twitched again and her eyes dropped almost shamefully to the floor. She sighed and responded, bitterly;

"Just under one-hundred and fifty."

Rima snorted, but her friends elected to ignore her. Amu frowned a little and sighed, sympathetically, at the sight of her forlorn best friend.

"Ah, maybe it won't be so bad, Utau," she said rather softly, as if trying to comfort a sobbing child; "maybe it'll all work out fine. A country retreat is nice, isn't it? Once you get the herd out the way it's all yours to do what you like with!" A dreamy look overcame her face. "I sure wish I could afford a second home…"

The blonde opposite her let out a sarcastic laugh. "You can take it. And the cows, if you'd like."

Sensing her sympathetic approach had backfired, Amu shrunk back into her seat. "I–I think I'll pass…"

"That's what I thought." Utau shook her head hopelessly and rubbed at the aching pain forming in her temples. "At least he has a hand," she said, calmer now; "there's this 'friend-of-a-friend' or something whose family deals with another dairy farm. He's helping Kukai look after the cows, but he'll only be there for the summer… After that, I'm not sure…"

She trailed off uncertainly. It had been said that the coming winter that year looked grim. She could only hope that they had managed to get the cattle shifted before the cold set in or else they would face the prospect of staying in an unliveable home during the long, frozen months just to make sure that the herd survived. But, then again, selling the herd before the winter would be no easy feat. Transportation of such heavy loads would be tricky – if not impossible – along the pothole-pocked road to the farm and finding a buyer would be even harder. The cows, as they were, were not the healthiest of beasts.

Utau shook her head. One step at a time, she reminded herself, one step at a time…

"Still," Rima peered over the rim of her teacup; "It would be nice to have a winter retreat that I can steal. You'd better hope Kukai does a good job of this."

"So had Kukai." Utau glowered. "Otherwise we'll have to live out of cardboard boxes with those damn cows over the winter. If he hasn't sold them by then, that is. I mean, personally I would love to leave him out there stranded in the snow after what he's done, but…"

Across from her, Amu laughed brightly – a stark contrast to her dark and angry aura. "And has your brother heard of all this yet?"

Utau's heart suddenly plummeted in her chest. She hadn't thought of that. If Ikuto found out about the mess his brother-in-law had gotten them into… Well, she'd never hear the end of it. She gave her friend the sternest look she could muster.

"Do not tell Ikuto."

Because if Ikuto found out… then God help her.

-l-l-


	3. Chapter 3

-l-l-

To say that the task ahead would be challenging… was an understatement. A complete and absolute understatement.

Well, at this point, Kukai was starting to think that Utau had a point in doubting his little renovation project - but only _somewhat!_ Yes, there was a lot of work to do and, _yes,_ perhaps, without proper reinforcement, some of the building itself was in fact just a little bit… _unstable._ But, hey, that's what builders were for, right? And so Kukai stood in the front yard of his new project and watched with satisfaction as the first few contractors began to survey the property, each carrying notebooks and sporting luminous hard hats and jackets that meant that they were full of serious stuff. Or so he hoped. At least they were forming plans and sketches and all sorts of complicated ideas that he only pretended know about. Things were looking hopeful already, Kukai thought positively. Although, they truly wouldn't be able to get a move on for some weeks yet, but _still…_

Small steps, he told himself. Small steps!

And, in addition, all this renovation lark wasn't as tiresome as he'd thought! His days so far had been spent in the great outdoors clearing away all the dirt and debris that had been left behind by the previous owner. There was scrap to shift and half-dug holes in the yard to fill, not to mention several old and weather-worn structures that they wouldn't be able to take down until after the cows had gone. But, no matter, he thought. At least he had a hand when it came to looking after the herd. He had been put into contact with a local farmhand by one of his friends and he was pretty damned grateful, to be honest, because Kukai hadn't the foggiest idea what the _heck_ he was supposed to do with over a hundred farm animals.

Kukai sighed, looking over at the house he had bought. He was leant up against the rickety gate that encircled the space around a storage shed (he desperately hoped that it wouldn't give out on him), watching the way the last shards of glass in the broken windows glinted in the midday sun… He tried to envision them whole again; he tried to imagine and picture in his mind the way this place would look once he was done with it. He could see a lush green garden, neat cobblestones down the driveway, new white walls standing out like a beacon against the green backdrop of the rolling hills and the deep forest… Kukai grinned. Utau would see it one day too. She would fall in love with this little house - with this little piece of rural heaven.

But, if he ever wanted his wife to share that vision with him, he'd have to work his hardest right now.

Finding new strength in this thought, Kukai managed to haul another load of rusted metal into his arms, heading over to one of the many skips they'd had to drag up the driveway. He had no idea how those men had done it, but he saluted them. He'd barely been able to get his friend's pickup truck up here - and that was a four-wheel drive!

Kukai wiped his dusty hands on his jacket (to no effect - there was no escaping the stuff around here), satisfied at the amount they'd been able to shift in just that morning and happily bounced off to the next task. He was halfway down the driveway when his phone began to buzz in his back pocket. His heart leapt. It was probably Utau.

' _Utau.'_

He had it out and unlocked faster than you could blink. Reception was lousy as it was and if he missed a call from _Utau_ of all people he'd be screwed... Although, to be quite honest, he was in enough trouble with her already that it probably wouldn't have even mattered. He didn't even check the caller ID before pressing 'accept' and answering brightly;

" _Honey!_ How's it going, sweet?"

What he didn't expect was the unimpressed voice of none other than his brother-in-law down the line.

"What can I do to make sure you never call me that ever again?"

"Ikuto!" Kukai began, completely unfazed - bright and cheery as anything. His grin widened. He couldn't remember the last time _Ikuto_ of all people had called him. "How're you doing? Man, I haven't heard from you in _weeks!"_

"Yeah," replied the groggiest, most monotone voice Kukai had ever heard. He laughed.

"Man, you sound awful. You sound like a zombie, seriously. I thought musicians were supposed to be full of life! It's what, not even one yet? And you already sound beat."

A pause. "Kukai you moron, there's a seven hour time difference – it's six in the morning."

"What? Get out!" He exclaimed, scuffing his feet in the dirt and throwing some smaller pieces of scrap on the ground into the skip. "What are you doing calling me at six in the morning? Where are you right now anyway – still in France?"

"I'm in Austria. I'm up early; the old man wants to catch a train… That's not important – the point is I'm coming back to Japan next week."

Kukai hummed in interest and leaned up against the side of the half-crumbling wall that stretched around the front yard. Ikuto didn't talk about his schedules much anymore, not when he was constantly on the move, but this was certainly a surprise for sure. "Next week?" he repeated. "I thought you weren't supposed to finish your dad's tour for another month, or so Utau told me."

"The plan's changed." Ikuto was probably shrugging right now, waving a hand in dismissal. It was probably of no difference to him, something slight and trivial in the grand scheme of things. "The tour finishes in a couple of days, but dad's staying at an old friend's for a while and I'll be damned if I have to go and stay with a bunch of old men sitting round drinking and crying about the 'good old days'. It's not happening. I'm coming home early."

Kukai laughed in response, thoroughly amused. He hadn't seen an awful lot of his elusive father-in-law as of late, but he could just picture it. Aruto was the sentimental type even if he tried not to show it. On the other end of the line, Ikuto carried on.

"Anyway, I need a favour – I need to ask one of you to pick me up at the airport. I tried calling Utau, but she didn't answer."

"Nah, that's not unusual; she's got rehearsals this afternoon for a show. She usually turns her phone off." He paused, nodding in understanding. For all his worldly travels over the past few years, Ikuto had still not quite gotten round to obtaining a driver's license yet - or, at least, not one that was valid in Japan anyway. Well, when your most usual method of transport was either by train or aircraft, Kukai supposed he could understand. And on top of that, Ikuto had been living what he called the 'starving artist's dream' since about forever now. When he was in town, his sister and brother-in-law were his go-to taxi service, free of charge.

"Well, you might have to wait up for her a while, but Utau'll probably be able to come get ya," Kukai continued; "but I'm not around. I'm still up here in Hokkaido for the summer."

The following silence was so absolute that Kukai was beginning to think that Ikuto had been completely cut off. Trust the crappy reception up here to play up on him now.

"Hey? Buddy? _Hey, Ikuto?_ _You there?"_

In fact, he was just about to get up and wander off down the driveway in search of a better signal when–

"What? What are you doing in Hokkaido?"

"Oh, I'm just looking after the cows." Kukai replied, as if it was the simplest explanation in the world.

A second silence ensued. Kukai tapped uselessly at his phone.

"Hey? _HEY, IKUTO?"_

" _What?"_

" _I said 'HEY IKUTO'!"_

He heard Ikuto huff, exasperated, on the other end. "Not _that_ , you moron, what the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"The cows!" Kukai repeated, dumbstruck. "Didn't Utau tell you?"

"Tell me _what?"_

-l-l-

"Excellent, Utau, _excellent!"_

Yukari clapped excitedly as Utau stepped down from the stage, grabbing a towel and her water bottle as she waded through the sudden onslaught of makeup and wardrobe artists who surrounded her like a swarm, fighting to maintain her appearance between rehearsals. Her manager shooed them away, snapping her fingers at them, and came over to stand beside her.

"Perfect, Utau," she said again, flipping through the sheets of her daily schedule absently. "We're almost there… But I'm putting you up for another hour of choreography tonight, just to be sure… Does that sound okay, Utau? I can always…"

Utau sighed. She wasn't listening anymore. She was exhausted and hungry and just about ready to collapse onto the cold floor right there and then. She thought of her apartment - of her nice warm bed and her comfortable sofa… And then her heart sank a little as she remembered that the only thing missing was that her husband was still away from home. Her adorable, idiot husband who would always make sure to dig out extra pillows and order a takeout, maybe even a nice bottle of wine, and have it all ready and waiting for her by the time she got home after a day of difficult rehearsals.

She heaved another sigh. Yukari was still wittering on. She was so engrossed in her own organisation that she didn't even notice Utau slip away and scurry off to her dressing room, disappearing amongst the throngs of stagehands as she pushed her way through the corridors.

Being back in her own private dressing room, Utau let out a breath of relief. It was only a matter of time until her manager found her and dragged her back out for another run-through, but, for now, there was just a little bit of peace. She sat heavily down into an armchair, dug out a sneaky bar of chocolate from her handbag and turned on her phone. Perhaps Kukai had sent her a message. She didn't even care if it was another stupid picture of that half-collapsed farmhouse, she just wanted to hear from him again.

Utau sat back in her seat, unlocked her phone… And then almost choked on her chocolate bar.

' _Fifteen missed calls from_ _ **Ikuto**_ _.'_

' _Voicemail has_ _ **one new message**_ _.'_

Utau had no idea what to think. No idea how to react. What would prompt her brother to call her so many times so out of the blue? What had happened? Was he hurt? Was he in trouble? Was their father in trouble? Various worrying scenarios all flashed through her mind at once - most of them involving either Ikuto or their father lying in a hospital bed or unconscious in some back alleyway in Europe.

Suddenly very afraid, Utau gingerly dialled voicemail. There was a good four or five seconds of silence at the start of the message during which she could only suppose her brother was trying to put together the words to gently break some terrible news to her…

But instead he just coughed, unsure, and said slowly;

"Utau… what's this about one hundred and fifty cows?"

-l-l-

When Utau opened the door to her apartment and came face-to-face with her brother for the first time in months… All she could do was lower her head and stare at the floor sheepishly. In truth, was probably a little relieved that for once she didn't launch herself at him or tackle him in the middle of the hallway, but Ikuto just maintained that neutral expression that she hated. It was the one he tended to use when he was trying to be particularly guarded about something. It reminded her too much of how things used to be…

Back in the present, Utau stepped aside. Ikuto placed his travel bags on the mat and strolled leisurely across the threshold and into the apartment. She followed him silently into the living room where the two of them just stood, neither facing the other, for a good few moments. Utau's heart felt heavy. This was the first time she'd seen her brother in the flesh for a good few months… And _this_ was how they were behaving with each other. She felt the desperation clawing at her insides as the silence dragged on. Eventually, Utau couldn't take it any more.

"Ikuto–"

He raised a finger. She fell silent. Behind them, the clock on the wall ticked incessantly.

"Utau," Ikuto began slowly. She didn't say anything, just looked at him with big, hopeful eyes of lilac. Ikuto looked as though he had no idea how to go on. "I just… I'm _struggling."_

Utau blinked, her pretty little eyebrows narrowing. "What do you mean?"

And it was only then that Ikuto let that placid expression drop. He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples with a hand, and Utau only now noticed just how tired he looked. She wondered if he'd managed to sleep on his flight. She wondered if he was angry. She hoped he wasn't, but, as always, Ikuto hadn't given away much so far that day. His texts had been simple and to the point. ' _Landed. Be there in an hour.'_ or, ' _Five minutes from apartment.'_ Ikuto was never one to give away much in person, let alone by message.

"This is unbelievable. What's happening, Utau?" Ikuto asked. "What in the name of _God_ did you let that idiot do?"

Utau felt defeated. She meekly wandered over to her bag on the coffee table and pulled out the envelope full of photographs and pamphlets that Kukai had left her whilst he was gone. Not the best of reminders, she'd thought, but at least she could give Ikuto a rough idea of the situation they were in. She sat him down on the sofa and quickly flicked through them all. She watched his face as he stared down at the dreary images of their so-called 'little piece of heaven' in the countryside. He was frowning in confusion, his mouth slightly agape in a way that might have been amusing had she not been so ashamed.

"Kukai's up there now working on renovating it." she said after a while as if it would make things any better. "The plan is to have the basic structural work done by the end of the summer. If we can't sell the cows by then, we'll have to stay there and look after them over the winter. I don't think Kukai or I could stand to leave them there to starve… No matter how much they stink out the place."

Ikuto looked up at her then and his gaze was piercing. "You're going to _stay_ there over winter?" he repeated, incredulous. "Utau, it's a _deathtrap."_

"We can't leave them up there!" she huffed, folding her arms. "You can't think I'm that cruel!"

There was a pause as Ikuto considered this, resting his forehead in his hand, staring down at the photos on the table. He shook his head and let out a dry laugh in disbelief.

"This is..." he trailed off. "Alright. Okay. I've got to see this. When can you break away from rehearsals?"

Utau stared at him, utterly taken aback. "What?" she began, "You want to _go up there?"_

"Of course I'm going up there!" Ikuto said. He stood up, still struggling to process it all by the looks of it, and went to fetch the case and duffel bags he'd left on the doorstep. Utau hoped he wasn't getting ready to up and go _right now._ She couldn't bear it! The thought of her brother catching sight of it - that house with its dilapidated roof and ramshackle sheds and all of that rusty metal _shit_ that littered the land around it… She didn't even want to think about the cows.

Panic began to rise up in her chest. She leapt up and scurried after him. "It's– It's not exactly…" He raised an eyebrow at her, but she swallowed thickly and went on. "It'd be best for you to see it next summer, Ikuto!" She hoped she didn't sound too much like she was pleading. "There's a ton of work going on right now and–"

Ikuto cut her off, a dissatisfied sort of sound escaping his lips. "Don't be ridiculous." he said. "I need to see exactly what crap this idiot's bought before I let my sister spend the winter in it."

Utau swallowed. There was no way in hell that Kukai's farmhouse would receive the Ikuto seal of approval. But, with that, her brother opened the door and stepped back out into the hallway.

"So, when do you have the time off?"

-l-l-

 _A/N_ : I can't believe I managed to get more of this done... I just wanted to write more of this chapter to be honest. I've been looking forward to including none other than my fav Ikuto. Idk I just need more of him and Kukai being bros :')


	4. Chapter 4

-l-l-

Utau was nervous the entire way up to the farm. Throughout their entire flight she had sat uncharacteristically twiddling her thumbs and twirling a finger through her hair, shooting wary sideways glances at her brother. Ikuto, who had long mastered the art of falling asleep on flights, was, however, seemingly oblivious to her distress.

Even so, Utau shifted uncomfortably at the thought of introducing him to Kukai's new renovation project. Ridicule from her brother was not something she particularly looked forward to. Especially when this was the first time she'd seen him properly in about four months. But despite their time apart, the two of them remained uneasily quiet all the way through the rest of their plane journey, and then again through security; Utau spoke more to the rental guy at the hire car showroom than she did to her brother. Hell, she spoke more to the car, cursing and swearing at it as she tried to get the damn thing into gear. Ikuto was silent the entire journey down the lane in the ramshackle rental car, jostling and skidding over ditch-deep potholes and jutting stones.

The tension in the air was palpable and heavy on Utau's mind. She chanced a side-glance at her brother in the passenger's seat beside her, but his expression was unreadable, staring straight at the road ahead, only looking back at the violin case bouncing on the backseat with a hint of worry and a wince whenever they hit a particularly large and interfering bump in the road.

All the while Utau dreaded the end of their little road trip. As much as she hated this lane and the rest of the tedious trek up to the house in the hills, she was entirely willing to admit that she'd rather sit there, driving along forevermore into the distance in this crappy car, than have to reach the gate at the end of the way and just look at the utter disgust on Ikuto's face when he finally saw the dilapidated excuse of a cow-shed that Kukai had hoped they'd call home. She could just picture it now — the disbelief, the cluelessness, the exasperation... Oh God, what if he actually _laughed_ at them? As if Rima and Amu hadn't laughed enough when she'd shown them the pictures of their little holiday home.

Good sweet Lord, she was dreading it.

The lane continued on and the surrounding trees swept past the windows, one by one until the trunks became sparser and the road more even. The car rumbled on and Ikuto was jolted out of his reverie by the sound of his violin clunking on the seat as yet another pothole sent jarring shudders up through their spines. Thankfully, the instrument settled on the seat quite safely and a wave of relief passed over his face.

"So you could afford the house, but not the suspension — I get it."

Utau's grip on the wheel tightened. The criticisms were already coming. Not that she didn't expect it, but she did feel the need to brace herself tenfold for the reaction he'd have on seeing the house if he couldn't even handle the _car_. Damn Kukai for getting her into this.

"It's not far." She said. "The gate's coming up ahead, look."

Ikuto hummed in acknowledgement. "Fancy gate."

Utau could have smashed her head into the steering wheel. One side of the gate was hanging loosely on its hinges.

"I'm assuming Kukai was supposed to fix that?"

Kukai was also supposed to have bought a holiday home literally anywhere else in the world, but Utau didn't feel like mentioning that.

"I hope you brought good boots," was all she said as she pulled up at the end of the lane and clambered out of the car, careful not to slide in the mud churned up by countless vehicles bringing building supplies to the house during the summer.

"At least you'll have quite the view." Ikuto half-heartedly offered as she led him up the path.

The blonde almost snorted. "We'll need the bloody windows first."

"What?"

"Nothing, come on."

As it turned out, the mud had dried somewhat in the (marginally) longer afternoons and the walk up to the house wasn't quite the struggle it had been the first time she'd made the trip. Still, it was pretty amusing to watch Ikuto pretend to act casual as he lost his footing on a slope.

"Aren't cats supposed to be agile?" Utau snickered, watching with great interest as her brother awkwardly straightened himself. He took a moment to muster up the dignity to respond.

"This cat is also supposed to be at home right now." He grumbled, his attention drawn every now and again to the changing scenery. "Sleeping, relaxing... Not being dragged to see my sister's ridiculous idea of a holiday home. Have we passed the cows yet?"

Said sister frowned and opened her mouth to speak until—

 _"Ikuto! Buddy!"_

Ikuto heaved an almighty sigh. "It begins..."

Her brother may have seemed uninterested, but Utau couldn't help but crack a small smile. No matter what their situation right now, it felt like years since she'd last seen her husband. Kukai was bounding down the slope towards them like an excitable puppy, wearing that gleeful expression that could make her heart soften and melt the ice of a deep, Hokkaido winter.

"Ikuto! Utau! Glad you made it!" Kukai beamed, his grin a ray of sunshine against his grubby face. Whatever work he'd been doing was dusty judging by the amount of it on his skin. Utau hoped that he didn't notice her brush a hand over her cheeks after he kissed her. Thankfully, his attention had moved to her brother.

"Ikuto!" Kukai spread his arms wide. "Man, how long's it been? Four, five months?"

Ikuto expertly avoided his attempted embrace with that signature cat-like agility and continued up the path. "Five, Kukai, now let's get this over with. Where is the place?"

"Ah! Well now, it's just—"

"Oh dear _God."_

Ah. It was the moment Utau had been waiting for - and dreading. She looked up towards her brother and there, a mere minute's walk away, stood the house. _The_ house. The farmhouse from hell, slumped dark and grey against the landscape, as sorry and drab as it had been on her very first visit. She caught the glinting of a spiderweb under the sun as the breeze uplifted it from a patch of brambles. The only difference was that probably decades worth of old farming equipment now lay in the space outside the shed rather than in it; old, rusty heaps of iron so worn with age and use that she couldn't even guess their original purpose. All in all, rusty garbage considered, it wasn't exactly the best first impression for her brother's visit, but, then again, Utau doubted that this place had given any sort of good impression in years. The couple stood beside him, Utau dragging her feet and head hung in shame, Kukai bouncing up and down on the spot.

"Well," he began, the cheer in his character an absolute contrast with his brother-in-law's, "what d'you think? Needs a mighty good face lift, that's for sure, but I'd say that in a few month's time—"

"I can't believe you, Kukai." Ikuto cut in.

Kukai looked struck dead. "What?"

"This is absolutely ridiculous."

 _"What?"_

"Of all the _stupid_ things you've done..."

And, to Utau's horror, he actually slapped himself on the cheek.

"Oh God, it's real," he muttered briefly to himself. "Utau, how could you let this idiot do this?" Ikuto sighed heavily and rubbed a hand across his temples. "This had better be a massive joke because I'm too jet-lagged for this."

Apparently, this was a little too much for Kukai to handle, because in an instant he was frowning indignantly, swooping in to defend his dear old dream house. "Wha-? No! Now hold up, bro—"

"Don't call me 'bro'." Ikuto deadpanned.

"Have you _seen_ the potential in this place?" He waved a hand towards the rotten wooden house as if this proved his point. "Think of everything we could do with it! And the view — my God, this place sells itself on location alone! _And,_ " he went on; "it's not exactly ' _derelict'_ , as my dear wife here would like you to believe. There's work going on on this structure as we speak!"

Actually, the background was currently devoid of workers, but neither of them particularly wanted to get caught up on that particular detail.

"There's still the matter of the cows, Kukai," Utau reminded him icily.

He stopped dead and stammered uselessly for a few moments, apparently unable to come up with a suitable line of defence for this particular jab at his little DIY project. Eventually, faltering under his wife's gaze, he fell silent.

Meanwhile, Ikuto shook his head, exasperated. "Where even are these cows anyway?"

Kukai merely waved in the general direction towards the horizon. Utau sighed and picked her way across the dismal, sorry excuse for a yard. "It's this way." she said, taking charge whilst her husband was being so useless. Ikuto wordlessly followed her down the track as Kukai trotted up beside her.

"I can't believe this, Utau, babe!" he whined to her when they were out of earshot from her brother. "He's come full of ammunition to shoot this whole thing down! What have you told him?"

Utau frowned. "What do you mean?" she said, trying her very best to keep her voice steady so as not to belie the bitterness that was on the very tip of her tongue. She may have loathed this place with every fibre of her being, but it was her first reunion with Kukai in months and even Utau wasn't sure that she wanted to get things off to a bad start with him. Besides, she had arranged to stay up there with him for the rest of the summer in the hopes of getting most of the work done in time for winter. If the two of them were at each other's throats the entire time, they'd get nowhere.

" _Well…"_ Kukai trailed off, staring after Ikuto as he followed the track ahead of them.

"You think I've set him up to this, _don't you?"_

The silence that followed was a good enough answer. Utau bristled, but caught herself just in time. "There's no stopping you now, _Kukai._ " she said simply, a definite edge to her voice. "Even I know that."

"Hey, Utau…"

She just raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's gonna be _perfect_ , you know that, right?" Kukai said to her and the hopeful, absolutely endearing look on his face soothed her ire for a moment. She pursed her lips and exhaled loudly before responding.

"I hope so, Kukai."

And he flashed her one of those brilliant smiles again and reached for her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers.

"I _promise."_

-l-l-

"I don't _believe it."_

Ikuto looked even more dumbfounded stood at the edge of the cattlefield than he had upon first seeing the house. Utau and Kukai had caught up and found themselves at the edge of the fence that separated them from those infamous one-hundred and fifty cows. Utau chanced a look at her brother's face. He raised a single hand and scratched at his head absently as the cows ponderously trudged about in the muddy grass; idly chewing and raising their big, curious eyes at them.

"I can't believe I'm seeing this."

"Kind of cute, aren't they?" Kukai piped up, chipper as anything — as if they weren't stood on what was essentially a wasteland of dying grass and mud and surrounded by half-collapsed cowsheds.

Ikuto looked incredulously at him. "Kukai, what in hell persuaded you to buy a _dairy farm?_ This place doesn't look like it's been operational for years."

"Hasn't." Kukai said simply, leaning on the wooden fence. It creaked dangerously and both Utau and Ikuto winced in unison. "And we hope that these guys won't be here much longer. We wanna get 'em sold by winter 'cause, God, I don't have a single clue what to do with them."

At that Ikuto frowned. He cast his eyes over the herd. "Do you even know how to look after them?" he asked, genuinely sounding concerned. He had a point, Utau thought. The beasts didn't exactly look in perfect health. Some of them looked thinner than she had seen them last and they were confined to just a single field that looked as though it was nearly out of vegetation for them to graze on. As Utau looked back at them now, she had to admit that she pitied them somewhat.

Kukai waved a hand urgently, backtracking fast. "Oh no, no, don't worry, bro! I've got a friend helping me out with them!" And, on seeing that Ikuto most certainly didn't look convinced, he added; "Well, a ' _friend-of-a-friend'_ , really. His family owns a dairy farm about half an hour from here. He knows what to do — it's all good, man."

Ikuto hummed, but still looked sceptical as ever.

" _Well!"_ Kukai clapped his hands together loudly. A small cloud of dust trickled down through his grubby fingers. "It's good to have another helping hand around here! Come on, buddy, I'll go grab you some gloves and we can get started!"

As Kukai began to jog off back down the path, Ikuto whirled around, looking stricken.

" _What?"_

Kukai paused at the corner of one of the storage sheds and beamed. "Come _on!_ You didn't come up here for a vacation, did you? Hold up, stay there a second, I'll go grab you some stuff and we can get started!"

He'd probably already sensed the danger because before Ikuto could say anything back, Kukai was off and out of sight.

-l-l-

And so, Utau watched with perhaps just a _hint_ of amusement as Kukai set her dearest brother put to the task of manual labour; hauling and dismantling the various pieces of junk that still made sure the front yard could be classed as a deathtrap whilst he began to clear the interior of the house. Ikuto had insisted on wearing two pairs of gloves at a time.

"If I get stabbed by this shit all because of _you_ ," he had said; "I'll have your fucking balls, you _idiot."_

But Kukai had just laughed lightly, as if Ikuto had said something absolutely hilarious, and playfully slapped him with his own glove.

Ikuto glared up at her, hunched over in the shadow of the house from hell, jabbing away at the solid earth in an attempt to free a particularly twisted piece of machinery that was half-wedged into the dirt.

"I'm going to kill your husband." he said darkly.

Utau rolled her eyes. She didn't know why Ikuto had to maintain the impression that he hated Kukai with every fibre of his being, but she didn't particularly feel like bringing _that_ whole argument up again now. Not when she was an inch away from unleashing her fury on him herself.

"I'd rather you killed him after we've gotten all the hard work done." she said, struggling to drive her shovel into the dirt. "Otherwise we'll never be shot of it."

But Ikuto wasn't listening. He threw down his shovel, scuffing up about half a wheelbarrow of buried metal as he did so, and narrowed his eyes at her. "Honestly, how could you _let_ him waste his money on this place?" He began, exasperated. "I've known Kukai waste his money on some shit in his time, but, honestly, Utau, I can't just leave you _here."_

Utau paused, deep in thought for a moment. She understood her brother's point perfectly well. She wasn't exactly looking forward to potentially having to spend the winter there, especially if they were going to have to weather one of the harsh, long winters of Hokkaido, but something made her stop. Something had begun to tear her resolve in two. She remembered the way Kukai's fingers fit between her own so perfectly; the way his grin lit up his face as he surveyed his new half-built retreat… She remembered the way he'd looked at her so earnestly and squeezed her hand;

" _I promise."_

God damn it, she thought to herself. She didn't know how her husband did it — how he somehow made her feel like everything was okay even when they were way in over their heads in a place like this. She didn't know how he did it, that was for sure, but she sure did admire it. She adored it — _treasured_ it.

"Well…" she began, brushing away one of her pigtails as the gentle breeze blew it across her face. "You know Kukai," she said; "You know how he gets with these wild, crazy venture of his."

Ikuto made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort. Utau could've sworn she could see years worth of flashbacks pass over his face. Her lips twitched into a faint smirk. Ikuto didn't exactly have the best track record of avoiding getting roped into Kukai's crazy shenanigans.

"Besides," Utau continued; "even if we can't pull him out of it, maybe, one day, it might just be worth it. Maybe, one day, we might be glad that we went off on this mad little venture. I must say, sometimes I think I can see where Kukai's coming from…" Around them, the breeze picked up ever so slightly and somewhere in the background, the gentle tinkling of a wind chime reached their ears - a faint, yet melodic and peaceful sound in the distance. "He says to me that he can picture a little family home here. I think that's what he sees in it. And sometimes, I think I can too."

Ikuto's expression softened considerably. He paused for a moment, looking up at his little sister fondly before he laughing drily to himself and shook his blue head in defeat. "He'd better be right." he whispered, probably more to himself than to her. "I shouldn't be here. This shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be working for _Kukai_ , of all people..."

And for a good long while, Utau couldn't get much more out of him than that until, that is, when Kukai came ambling back down into the yard, an unusually far-off look on his face and one eye glued to his wristwatch. Utau raised one pretty little eyebrow as he drew nearer, looking positively lost. Utau took one hard glance at him and then at Ikuto who was still scrabbling around in the dirt. Her heart quickened. If something was wrong, she didn't want Ikuto to catch wind of it — or, at least, not just yet. Not when she'd only just soothed his irritation. She abandoned her shovel and quickly made her way over to her husband.

"Kukai," she said and when he looked up at her with big, worried eyes the impending doom was almost tangible. She swallowed. "What's gotten into you?"

Kukai glanced back down at his watch again. "I don't think our farmhand's comin' back."

Utau blinked. "What? That's it?"

"Utau, you don't get it!" he countered; "he was supposed to come back from town and get to work on the cows! And now he's not here! Utau, what the heck do _I_ know about _cows?"_

"Simple." she folded her arms and flicked a pigtail over her shoulder. "You just let them graze. Let them in their shed after nightfall. How hard can it be?"

He looked back at her as if she had grown two heads. " _Utau."_ he said slowly. "Can you see _me_ herding all those cows? _No!_ And then there's the feed! I don't know how much to give 'em! I don't know how to treat them!" And then his face paled, as if he'd just had some sudden, devastating realisation. "Oh God," he ran a dirty hand over his face. "I don't know how to _milk them!"_

He looked at a complete loss. Utau scoffed. "Kukai, you're overreacting."

"Utau, we've been selling that milk! And it's all by hand! It takes _forever! And I don't know how to do it!"_

Something inside her snapped. "Well _perhaps_ if you hadn't decided to buy the cows in the first place—!"

" _Hey!_ I _told_ you, Utau, that I had _no idea—!"_

"Oh, well isn't _that_ reassuring!" she snapped. There was no stopping her now. To hell with it, she thought! Utau was itching to unleash that frustration that had been building ever since she'd set foot on this farm. "You never have _any idea!"_

Kukai huffed. " _No,_ that's why _I'm_ the one doing all the work!"

" _Then why haven't you learnt how to milk a bloody cow? It's a dairy farm!"_

Kukai opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again. Utau watched as he gaped and fumbled over his words like a fish out of water. She was just about to counter his pathetic babbling with some brutal remark when she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, Ikuto strolling past, calm as anything.

"You're both being ridiculous." he muttered and then disappeared off down the path.

Kukai stopped stammering. Utau gaped after him. The two exchanged glances and then simultaneously scurried off after him. Utau tutted loudly.

"If you've managed to scare my brother off because of _this—!"_

"You insisted on bringing him up here!"

"He insisted himself! And besides, we need all the help we can—"

She stopped mid-sentence. She and Kukai halted at the end of the path, stood right beside the field of cattle where the cows still grazed lazily in the weak sunlight. They looked on, utterly floored as Ikuto casually dragged out the sturdiest-looking stool and several pails from one of the ramshackle sheds nearby. He hopped the fence, placed the stool next to the nearest cow and the two watched as he proceeded to begin milking it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It was a good few minutes before he noticed them. He glanced up at their bewildered expressions and shrugged;

"When music doesn't pay, a man's gotta get creative."

Kukai grabbed onto Utau's arm as if for support.

"How much do you think I could pay your brother to stay here permanently?"

-l-l-


End file.
